Foolish Games
by Haldiriell
Summary: While his wife sleeps, Khan finds himself in charge of their toddler son. Takes place between chapters 23 & 24 of "The Scars On Our Hearts". Part of "Even The Stars Burn".


Most of his life, he had been a soldier. A leader, a conqueror, a warrior. Recently, he'd been a slave. He had rebelled, become a terrorist and a murderer, by the definitions of his oppressors. He had been a husband, though he had been taken from his beloved wife for a time. He was again a husband, to the woman he loved more than anything.

All these roles he'd held, and yet the scariest he'd encountered was his newest: father.

Khan Noonien Singh sat with his back to the bulkhead in the cabin he shared with his wife, Anthea. She slept, exhausted by everything she had done recently to save him and his people. He, meanwhile, balanced their almost-thirteen-month-old son on his knees.

Nolan had slept for a little while, but was now alert, sitting up with half a hand crammed in his small mouth, staring at Khan with big, blue eyes and a solemn expression.

The child had his dark hair and his eyes. His face was too chubby to really identify any other features, but the quiet, focused way his son regarded him left no doubt in Khan's mind that this was most definitely his son.

The boy had greeted him with a cheerful "Hi!", but other than saying "Dada" at Anthea's prompting, Nolan hadn't said another word. He was remarkably trusting of him, given they had only met that day.

He had missed so much. The entirety of his wife's pregnancy, the birth and first year of his son's life. Nolan was already walking and talking, had cut his first teeth. By the time he had woken from his frozen slumber, his son was already over a year old. He'd only learned of the boy this afternoon. Khan had known Anthea was strong, but knowing everything she had done in his absence left him speechless.

The boy, too, stole his ability to speak. He had a _son_!

The question now was, what on earth did he say to the toddler that stared so raptly up at him?

Nolan popped his hand out of his mouth and offered a cheeky grin. "Hi hi!" he said again.

"Hello, my boy."

Nolan flailed his legs, then reached out a hand. Khan very gently took the baby's tiny fingers, letting them curl around just one of his. The chubby digits didn't even reach all the way around.

The child pointed with the other at Anthea, who still slept. "Mama!"

"Yes, that is Mama. Do you know who I am, Nolan?"

Nolan's little face scrunched up. He looked at Anthea for a long moment, then back at Khan. "Not Mama!"

Khan fought a grin. "I am your father."

The boy looked blank.

"Daddy," Khan said, trying again. "Dada."

It was obvious Nolan had no idea what that meant, even though he repeated, "Dada!"

The boy's thick, dark hair was mussed from sleep, and Khan smoothed it carefully with a hand. He himself was a strong as five men, perhaps stronger, and this child he held was so incredibly fragile. His heart swelled just looking at Nolan.

"I'm sorry I was gone," he whispered. "I am so sorry that I missed everything. You will need me as you grow, and I swear to you, my son, I will be here for everything."

Nolan waved the hand holding his father's finger. Khan was relaxed enough that it bounced his own hand. "Play, Dada!" he squealed.

"Shush, Nolan, let's not wake Mummy." Khan glanced at his wife, saw that she hadn't woken. He set Nolan down and fetched his trousers, pulling them on before lifting his son back into his arms.

Leaving Anthea to rest, Khan carted Nolan out into the corridor. "Let us see what Mummy has brought for us," he said, once the door was shut.

Nolan nodded his little head and patted Khan's chest with a baby-drool-covered hand. "Play, Dada?"

He didn't know how to play with a child. His upbringing hadn't included much of that kind of thing after his mother died, when he was all of four. Khan had vague memories of entertaining his sister, but when Sarina Kaur had died, leaving her children orphaned, they had been taken in by others, raised by strangers to be soldiers, and all play had stopped.

"What do you wish to play?" he asked Nolan, wishing he'd been more interested in asking Anthea about their child than in bedding her.

"Boo! Play boo!"

"I do not know what 'Boo' is," Khan admitted.

Nolan clapped his little hands over his own face, then threw them off and squealed, "Booo!"

When Khan didn't give the desired response, Nolan frowned. "Mama play boo!"

Clearly he was going to have to ask Anthea when she woke. He felt a little lost and out of his depth. If it had been anyone else, he would have found it hysterical. Khan was _not_ used to being confused.

His son heaved a huge sigh and began to pout. "Play," he whined. "Play wif' me, Dada! Boo!"

Khan barely held in a sigh of his own. The last thing he wanted to do was make his own son cry. He carried Nolan into the bridge and sat in the pilot's chair, the boy on his lap.

"Tell me what 'boo' is, then, because Daddy seems to be stupid."

Nolan giggled. He covered his face with his hands, then said, "Pee!" When he pulled them away, he yelped, "Boo!"

Something in the back of Khan's memory began to surface. "Peek-a-boo?" he said uncertainly.

The toddler nodded like a bobble-head Khan remembered Kati having on the dashboard of her car back in New Delhi. "Boo!"

Feeling like a complete idiot, Khan mimicked the child's actions, saying, "Peek-a-boo!"

Nolan's laughter burbled up and he kicked his legs so excitedly, he nearly bounced himself right off Khan's lap. Foolish as he felt, the child's happiness brought a grin to his own face.

Never in a million years would he, Khan Noonien Singh, have pictured himself playing peek-a-boo with a small child, but here he was. And he was _enjoying_ it, ridiculous as it was. Nolan's laugh was well-worth any silliness, he decided, though if anyone found out he was doing this, he'd skin them alive and sew their lips shut.

His crew, his friends and the others like him, had always been the most important in his life. They weren't like regular people, and they needed to stand together, be family.

But sitting in a chair with his little boy in his lap, playing such a simple game, gave Khan more pleasure and contentment than he had experienced in a very long time.

"Peek-a-boo!"

Nolan's gap-toothed grin just got bigger and bigger. Khan didn't see why the game was so entertaining, but he wasn't a baby.

Behind him, Anthea cleared her throat. Khan started in surprise, one hand catching Nolan to keep him from falling at the sudden movement.

"Having fun, are we?" his wife asked dryly, as she moved to perch on the other chair. She'd wrapped one of the silk robes she'd acquired on their Betazed honeymoon around her, the purple, blue, and burgundy floral design draping elegantly over her lusher form.

"Mama!" Nolan chirped. "Dada play boo!"

"Yes, I see! Daddy learns quickly, doesn't he?"

Nolan reached for her, so she took him from Khan, settling him against her chest.

"Did we wake you?" her husband asked.

"No. I just woke on my own, wondered where you two had gone." She kissed the top of their son's head.

"Ah . . . About this . . ."

Anthea smirked. "Don't worry. Your secret is safe with me. No one will ever know the great and mighty Khan plays peek-a-boo."

He gave her a feigned glower and she laughed.

"Come back to bed, Daddy," she murmured. "We'll teach you other games to play tomorrow. After all, he has to catch up, doesn't he, No?"

Khan followed Anthea back to their cabin. Nolan peered at him over her shoulder, and he couldn't resist one last peek-a-boo from behind her.

The great and mighty Khan, indeed.


End file.
